


Calculated Risk

by thegrrrl2002



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrrrl2002/pseuds/thegrrrl2002
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to episode 3.15 "Hookman". Also, fills in my <i>in vino veritas</i> square for trope_bingo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calculated Risk

Steve meets with the governor to report on the takedown of Stoner, so by the time he finishes up in the office it's close to midnight. But he heads straight for Danny's apartment anyway. He doesn't want to go home, doesn't want to talk to Doris. Not after seeing his father's spirit, right there on the street. 

The lights are still on in Danny's apartment when he pulls into the parking lot. And when Steve knocks, Danny opens the door with a frown on his face and a drink in his hand. "Steven," he says solemnly. 

A little too solemn. He's got one hand on the doorframe, holding himself steady and his hair is a bit rumpled, as if he's been running his hands through it. 

"Hey, Danny." Steve raises his eyebrows at the drink in Danny's hand. Scotch, he'd guess. 

"What? I was out of beer." Danny steps aside, letting Steve in. 

Steve heads into the kitchen, and spots the bottle on the counter. He can use a drink, too. He still feels raw from the events of the day. Too many dead friends. And seeing the spirits of Ookala and Keoki, right there in front of him, and his _father_ \--he shook hands with his own dead father. Seeing them was a balm for his soul and yet nothing could ease the pain of not being able to save them. This much he knows, though--they were not a hallucination. It wasn't all in his mind. They were real, just as real as Danny, leaning against the fridge and scowling at him. 

Maybe someday he'll tell Danny. 

"Help yourself," Danny says as Steve pulls a glass out of the cabinet and pours himself a hefty shot. 

"I will, thank you." Danny's a balm for his soul, too, in ways that Steve can't quite figure out.

Danny drains his glass and holds it out for more. 

"How much have you had?" Steve asks as he refills Danny's glass.

"Not enough." Danny stares into his glass, swirling the liquid gently. He holds it up in a toast. "To Keoki. And Ookala."

Steve nods, his throat growing tight. He manages a sip of his drink, then another. The warmth of it relaxes him, makes it easier to swallow.

After a moment Danny adds, "And just for the record, I hate you." 

Danny's petulant tone of voice is inexplicably comforting. "No you don't." 

That's all it takes to set Danny off. 

"Yes, yes I do. I hate you and your reckless Navy SEAL ways, flinging yourself directly into the line of fire. Where do they teach you that? Is that a special course in SEAL school?" He punctuates his words with his arms and nearly spills his drink. "I hate the way you drive and I hate dead cops and I hate snipers and I hate batshit crazy drug dealers and I hate that you don't know the difference between cover and concealment and, and--"

Steve nods encouragingly as he sips his scotch. The taste is warm and velvety--Danny buys the good stuff, no doubt about that. 

"And I hate those pants. A lot," Danny says in a final rush. He slumps against the fridge, deflated. 

Startled, Steve glances down at his pants. "What? What did my pants ever do to you?" He's still wearing his white cargo pants, a little dirty and scuffed up around the knees at this point, but they're just pants.

Danny waves him off, as if he couldn't possibly explain anything that complicated to him. 

"No, really, Danny. This, this is something new. We've covered the 'reckless vs calculated risk' territory enough times, but my pants? What's wrong with my pants?" Steve asks. 

"What's wrong with your pants?" Danny echoes. He pushes himself away from the fridge, opens the freezer, and grabs a couple of ice cubes. "Nothing. There is nothing wrong with your pants. They're very nice pants. And that's what wrong with them." He drops the ice into his glass. "Want some?"

Steve shakes his head. He's utterly confused. Danny must be crossing over from tipsy to drunk, because he's not make sense anymore.

"And, by the way, we have not covered the 'reckless territory' enough times," Danny continues. "I get that you have had extensive training in areas I couldn't even begin to imagine and while you are not without some impressive superman-like capabilities--"

"Superman?" Steve surprises himself by grinning. "You think I'm kind of like Superman?" 

"No, no no no, I said you are like Superman." Danny frowns at the drink in his hand, then places it on the table. "I mean--not that you, you--" 

"Superman, huh?" Steve sips his drink. "Cool."

Danny moves in closer, hand wrapped around Steve's forearm. "No. Not cool. Not at all cool. There was a bullet literally with your name on it, and you were reckless, Steve. Reckless." 

"Technically it was a bullet casing--"

"Do not get technical with me," Danny snaps. His eyes are bright and blue and intense and he's leaning even closer now.

"It was not reckless, Danny," Steve says quietly. "It was a calculated risk. I knew what I was doing." 

"A calculated risk? No. That was insanity. You want a calculated risk? This is a calculated risk--" 

And Danny kisses him. It's a fierce, stunning kiss, full of bluster and even though Steve is shocked, he revels in it, so much that when Danny tries to pull away, he hauls Danny back in for more. Danny makes a small noise and slides an arm around Steve's neck, body pressed flush as he reaches up and they keep on kissing. It's desperate and wonderful and kind of crazy and Steve never expected this and yet somehow it's exactly what he needs. He can't get enough of it, of Danny's smart mouth, the way Danny feels under his hands, solid muscles, slim hips shifting restlessly against him, Danny's round firm ass--

"Whoa." Danny breaks off the kiss with a gasp, sliding down flat-footed again. He rests his head on Steve's shoulder and laughs, a high pitched giggle of a laugh. 

"Yeah," Steve agrees breathlessly. He runs a hand over Danny's head, rubs his nose against Danny's surprisingly soft hair. "Whoa." He's still a little stunned. 

Danny takes a deep breath before raising his head to look Steve in the eye. "And that is how you take a calculated risk," he announces.

"I get it now." Steve nods. 

Danny curls his fingers into the collar of Steve's shirt. "Do you? I don't think you do." 

He's a little too serious. And Steve's pretty sure they've both had enough of serious for one day.

"Maybe you need to show me again," Steve suggests. 

"Steven," Danny says, stern now. He gives Steve a little shake, then sighs. "You're just going to keep on driving me crazy, aren't you?"

Before Steve can answer, Danny's kissing him again, tender and gentle this time. Steve knows that at some point, they'll need to talk, but right now he's got Danny in his arms, warm and willing to take a chance on him so Steve holds him close and when he slips a hopeful hand under Danny's shirt, Danny murmurs " _damn right we're going to_ " and drags Steve out of the kitchen and into his bedroom, where Steve gets to drive Danny crazy in a whole new, Danny-approved kind of way.


End file.
